Chapter 19
brENT
I can’t believe it’s been so long since I’ve seen my uncle. I remember when my parents sent me to him when I was younger, and after meeting his family, I knew they didn’t know that Uncle Ellsworth is still gay.
Not just still gay but living a gay life with his husband and their two kids. I kept that secret for a while until one time my parents picked me up early, and Zaiden opened the door. That was the end of the secret.
Naturally, I was punished for keeping a secret from my parents. It was my fault, of course. They were absolutely furious that Ellsworth was mocking God by being gay and calling himself a priest. They’d be even further mortified if they found out he was a priest who didn’t believe in God.
I’ll never forget the story of why he became a priest and how he met Zaiden.
I’ve always thought Ellsworth’s love for his deceased husband—my actual blood uncle—was so strong and deep and enduring that all these years later, he’s still trying to keep Uncle Lenny’s dying request for Ellsworth to find God and make peace.
Uncle Ellsworth interpreted that request strangely, for sure, but he still lives every day trying to fulfill that promise.
I admire Zaiden’s support of it, too. Zaiden believes, but I imagine it could feel threatening or heavy to be with someone who still loves their dead husband so strongly that they’re willing to challenge their beliefs every day for thirty years.
But Uncle Zaiden says their love is stronger for it. He takes great pride in supporting Uncle Ellsworth however he wants to follow that promise.
That’s always the kind of love I’ve hoped for. A combination of both. A love that transcends death, like Uncle Ellsworth has for Uncle Lenny. But the patient, understanding, supportive love of Uncle Zaiden for Uncle Ellsworth in his pursuit of upholding a promise to his dead husband.
I remember coming home from one of my first visits with them and wondering if other relationships looked like that.
My mom and dad didn’t. There was something almost cold in their relationship.
Distant. Sometimes, I wasn’t sure they liked each other much, and I was less sure that they loved each other.
I’ve spent a lot of years trying to decode their marriage. The why simply never made sense to me. Now, I think about my upbringing and look at relationships around me, and I can’t fathom why they’re married. I wonder if they’d describe their marriage as happy.
Rafe’s hands on my shoulders, smoothing out the sleeves of my sweater, have me blinking out of my thoughts as I stare into the mirror.
I’ve seen pictures of Uncle Lenny, though he was disowned by my mother and her family when I was very young, so I don’t remember ever meeting him.
There’s something about this sweater I’m wearing that reminds me of the picture I’d seen all those years ago.
I do look like him. Does that hurt Uncle Ellsworth?
Rafe leans against my back and presses his lips to the shell of my ear. “You’re sexy as all fuck dressed up like this, Brent.”
A smile spreads across my face, and I wiggle my ass backward against his crotch, where I feel just how much he likes what he sees. “Yeah? You think so?”
His hand drags down my chest until he gets to the hem of my shirt and hikes it out of the way so he can slide his hand down my pants to grip my dick. “Tonight,” he says, voice low and husky. “You’re getting off on my dick.”
I groan, staring at us together in the mirror. It’s hot seeing how turned on he is by me, but my heart races for another reason. We look good together. I swallow the lump in my throat and take a deep breath to rid myself of the thoughts.
“How long do we need to stay at the party?” I ask.
He laughs. Giving my balls a quick squeeze, making me jump, he pulls his hand free. “A while, but not so long that we can’t sneak off in a few hours for at least a pre-fuck orgasm. We’re both going to need to come at least once before we fuck.”
“Why’s that?” I ask, watching as he straightens his tie.
“Because I’m not willing to let this fuck end too quickly. I’ve been waiting too long.” He smirks and turns away, leaving me in the closet.
What does that mean? Waiting too long? I can’t allow myself to read too much into that. I won’t allow it. It doesn’t mean anything at all.
With his hand in mine, I follow him out of the bedroom and down the hall.
It’s quiet, but we’re on the second floor, so I’m not expecting anything less.
I have a feeling that there could be parties all over this castle, but unless you’re right beside them, the sound doesn’t travel much beyond the doors.
It isn’t until we’re within sight of the door to the room where the tree is that I begin to hear voices and laughter. There’s the quiet backdrop of instrumental holiday music. Rafe said there’d be a live band playing, but it’s not a mosh pit. They’re there for ambiance.
Not going to lie. As soon as we step into the room, my breath is taken away. I’ve been in this room so many times over the last few days, and it simply transforms between events. It’s elegant with long, rich fabrics, live garland, and high-top tables with luxurious linens and crystal toppers.
“I don’t understand how this room is so many different things,” I muse.
Rafe grins. “The magic of decorations.”
“Is that it? I swear it’s something else.”
He pulls me close, kissing my jaw, and murmurs, “In combination with the way everyone is dressed? Yes. The beauty of this room is that it can be elevated to sophistication or brought back to humbler feelings with just a little adjustment in décor.”
I shiver, my arm snaking around Rafe’s waist.
“Want to dance?” he asks.
“You mean remain pressed up against you? Yes. Yes, I do.”
He chuckles, a low, sexy sound that skates down my spine. Taking a step backward, Rafe drops his hand into mine and leads me further into the room.
It’s been gloriously transformed. It’s breathtaking. An elegant callback to days long gone, when balls were the pinnacle of social gatherings.
This isn’t exactly a ball. No one is in gowns or anything.
It’s as casual as you feel comfortable wearing, knowing that there will probably be a lot of people in finer clothes than your jeans and a hoodie.
Rafe dressed in a shirt and tie tucked into dark slacks, and damn, he’s fine as fuck.
He put me in slacks and a slim-fitting sweater.
The kind I’d never wear because it doesn’t fit into any occasion in my life.
I’m far overdressed for the richness of this fabric.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Marjorie stops us and looks between the two of us with a smile. “You two are so handsome. You always clean up so beautifully, Rafe.”
Rafe leans in and kisses his mother’s cheek. His charming smile has me smiling, too. “Thanks, Mom. And you. You may as well be a queen.”
She rolls her eyes before meeting mine. “Don’t let him sweet-talk you too much. His father taught him well.”
“He taught me how to treat my partner,” Rafe agrees.
Marjorie beams. She squeezes my hand and then excuses herself.
“One thing I appreciate about not being the oldest is that I will never have to host gatherings like this,” Rafe says.
I watch his mother greet a new couple that walks through the door. “No?”
He shakes his head. “No. We’re not royalty, but there are still royal words that endure, such as heir. The heir to the estate is my brother Rice. It’ll be his job one day to take over all that my mom does. He and Annie.”
“That’s a lot of pressure.”
He hums and gently tugs me along until we’re near the band, where a handful of couples are dancing already. Rafe pulls me to his chest, his arms around me in a hold that’s more of a lover’s embrace than a dance. He smiles, staring into my eyes. I feel like I’m floating on cloud nine.
“So you don’t get the castle when you grow up,” I say, somewhat breathless.
Rafe laughs. “No. At some point, I’ll probably take the house Rice and his family occupy now, and they’ll move here.”
“Were you here for all your childhood?”
“Yes. My parents moved in when Mom was pregnant with me. Grandma was already traveling all over with her studies and lectures, which is kind of a unique situation. I doubt Rice’s kids will spend more than a few of their teenage years here, depending on how many kids they have.”
“That’s not predetermined by their contract?”
His grin is amused. “No. Two kids are the mandatory minimum in theirs, I think. Maybe three. Whereas Royal is only contractually obligated for one.”
“How many are in yours?”
“One. It’s not a hard sticking point and one of the things my parents will negotiate when actually contracting me a spouse.”
“Do they sign your contract? I’m confused.”
“No.” He laughs. “But they’re basically the matchmaking service.
The contract will then be looked over by me and my spouse once our parents have sorted out the terms. We’ll have a chance to have the last say in anything.
It goes to lawyers to make sure it’s not barbaric or some shit.
Then we sign. It gets notarized, filed, and whatever. Then we commence proceedings.”
I shake my head, trying to fathom the strangeness of this.
“What about you?”
“I don’t have a contract. Sorry.”
My breath catches when he bites my lower lip. “Kids, Brent. You want kids?”
“Oh. Yeah. Maybe one or two.”
“Mm.”
His lips move along my jaw. Sensual kisses. Light nips of his teeth. My heart feels like it’s fluttering dangerously. The rapid hum of a hummingbird’s wings.
“Excuse me.”
Rafe leans back slightly to look at the woman standing to the side. She’s beautiful. Like the moon. Elegant; a combination of model and royalty.
“Rafe?” she asks.
Rafe inclines his head.
“Hello. I’m Ava Delaney. May I cut in? Our parents would like us to get to know each other for a potential marriage.”
I stare at her. Like… we weren’t just sitting across from each other at a table talking about baseball. We’re fucking wrapped around each other. A playing card couldn’t fit between us. The gall of this woman!
“Uh…” Rafe says, staring at her, unsure what to say. When he meets my eye, I think he’s actually going to dance with her. But when he looks at her again, he frowns. “This is my boyfriend. Brent, Ava. Ava, Brent.”
“How do you do?” Ava greets politely, bowing her head slightly.
She doesn’t take that as a hint, though. She remains there, waiting patiently. Watching Rafe expectantly.
“I’m sorry,” Rafe says. “My mother should have relayed the correspondence that the only one I’m considering for marriage right now is my boyfriend.”
Ava frowns. I stare at Rafe with wide eyes. Holy fucking fuck. Did he just…?
No. Fake. This is fake. I need to remember that.
This is all part of the script. Nothing more.
While my pulse thrums loudly in my ears, I lean in to kiss Rafe’s cheek and stare at the girl.
She meets my eyes, obvious disapproval in them.
So I lay my head on Rafe’s shoulder and watch her with challenge.
She’s only getting her hands on this man over my dead body.
I don’t hear the exchange after Rafe says that he’s only considering his boyfriend for marriage. The blood rushing through my ears prevents anything further from penetrating. I only know when she goes away because his attention is back on me.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his arms more securely around my back once again. “I’m a little surprised by… that.”
“That’s not usual?”
“I mean.” He pauses. “I suppose I can understand seeing two people dance and asking to cut in. That’s not actually all that unusual, though I question her thought process when she saw how we were dancing.”
I glance at the other couples on the dance floor, and they’re certainly in a less intimate stance than us. I can almost see someone asking to cut in on any of them. They’re almost formal in their dancing.
Nothing like how Rafe and I are embraced.
“But once I said you were my boyfriend, that should have been her hint to back off.”
“You’re a catch,” I say. Yes, I’m teasing, but I mean every single word too.
He huffs, turning his attention back to kissing along my jaw. “Whatever the case, it was rude of her.”
“She must look good on paper.”
Rafe laughs. His laughter is always loud and genuine. Never held back. It always brings a smile to my face.
“I suppose she does.”
“So, another question.”
He’s amused. I can feel the way his lips curve as he continues to place claims on my skin and rouse my cock. “Hm?”
“Do you meet them before your contract? How would you have known that she’s… like that if you hadn’t met her?”
“I don’t think my mother is actually looking at contracts right now when she sets up these meetings. Like I said. She wants me to settle down, but she’s not actually pushing. I think this is more along the lines of her trying to entice me to want to.”
“Uh-huh,” I say.
“I doubt I’d have liked her contract terms.”
“Based on what?”
“The rigidity in the way she follows through and can’t read a situation. There are tells for that kind of thing.”
“I see.”
“Enough about her, Brent. Right now, tonight, this is only about me and you.”
I swallow. His mouth moves over my Adam’s apple, teasing my skin with his tongue. Scraping his teeth along sensitive flesh.
“What about me and you?”
“I’m going to consider this the prelude to foreplay, my man,” he murmurs.
God, the way he licks me has me practically humming in his hold. Fuck. If we have to split away for any reason, the entire room is going to see a tent in my pants. There’s no hiding it. Not that it matters. I’m sure we look entirely indecent on the dance floor like this.
“Maybe we should find some shadows for one of those pre-sex orgasms,” I suggest.
“Yeah?” Rafe asks. “You ready for that?”
“With the way you’re touching me, Rafe? I’m going to come right here,” I mutter. “You’re driving me insane.”
His laughter trickles through my body, sending vibrations straight down to my balls. Fucker.